50 themes
by herpsy
Summary: Here we achieve quite the array of emotions! Join our captain and friends while learning all the while of things perhaps better left un-announced. [ jo!beck & line!link ]


01. Angel

Angels are creatures normally one considered on their death beds, fluffy wings, cherub-like face coming down and plucky your soul from your body as you went all ghostly and transparent-like-shit. At least, that's what Linebeck remembered from his 'religion 101' classes … so consider him surprised when his first experience with an 'angel' was not these weird, three-foot tall creatures, but rather a young boy, clothed in green with the most heavenly of smiles.

02. Reason

There was always a purpose, always an excuse, always some word to be said that would give another reason for someone to roll their eyes and just ignore the old sailor. So there he sat, with his nose in a drink, red-rimmed features and dark eyes swimming with alcohol consumed … "But really," the words were muttered, defeated, into his drink, "tha' little kid … took out 'em all …"

03. Prank

It wasn't everyday that a person could trip up the Hero of Winds. Not really, honestly, Linebeck took personal pleasure in being able to do just about anything to the kid who sat there, dumb-faced, no knowledge of what exactly it was that he was supposed to do just numbly following all the orders given to him. It was fun! It was interesting to watch his own inner turmoil, until he saw something that struck his heart in a way he had thought would never work again.

Sitting there with the statue of a stone girl, blue eyes stared up at her. Fiddling with a red scarf he had yet to replace to her neck. Linebeck had kept quiet after that, turning his back to the sight and just allowed the boy to get away with it this once. He'd find some other trick to pull later.

04. Caught

"I-I-er…" The adam's apple in Linebeck's neck moved, swallowing thickly on his tongue as open-eyed fear stared Jolene in the face. Her scimitar was pointed towards his neck as brown eyes narrowed dangerously, jerking the metal closer as the wobbling apple in his throat showed the quivering of the sailor from his head to his boots. "H-Hi, Jolene!"

05. Anxiety

Linebeck was never the calmest of the bunch. Even as a child there was always little things that would send him running in the opposite direction screaming to the heavens of their "ungodliness". It was not until years later that he ever rightfully admitted of these feelings, and it was still in but the subtlest of ways to avoid damaging a very high-maintenance ego.

"By Din kid, yer gonna give me a heart-attack some day!"

Words spoken in bitter response to battle wound that scattered a pubescent teenagers body. Fingers working gently to help heal as best they could …

06. Rock

Each step sunk them deeper into the pit of despair. Each step, each boot, the clinging water stealing oxygen from lungs as arms wrapped tightly about one another, the hero sinking, while the pirate attempted to keep him from falling to the bottom as an anchor. Yet it was only so long one could go without air, the rocks collected from years of adventures and might slowly taking away and leaving both at the bottom, still clinging to one another, trying to breach the surface.

07. Hire

Once the mission was over, there was nothing more for him. No longer the hero, no longer needed, no longer anything but a standing tool to be labeled and applied to —in case of disobedient guards— there was only one other path to be chosen. A sell sword to some, mercenary to others, there was one man the green robed person did not expect to see, swinging a bag of rupees around a loose string with a lopsided smile …

"So I heard ya were fer hire?"

08. I Can't Make You Mine

Selfishness. It was a thing spoken of at the end of a bottle, huffed words and red-rimmed nose with black-bags beneath his eyes making him become created with so much hatred. Pointing to the three-pronged triangle with an irritated hiccup, proclaiming heresy past lips of innocent eyes and surprised gasps. How else could one expect him to react as he pushed himself up, teetering upon his legs, voice booming loudly in his drunken stupor.

"I's not real! It'd never be real! No-one can ever get it!"

For it was too out of reach for even the holiest men. As he stared at the green-robed hero who stared at him, dumbfounded. What else was he supposed to do? What else?!

"Jus' … just leave me alone, kid…"

09. Race

"What do ya mean 'racist bastard'?" Linebeck slurred, a smirk touching his lips as he stared down the creature with horns and a coat of thick fur. "I was just sayin' how ya would be so much better at—!" A hand grabbed ahold of the other's coarse fingers, green hues diving to see the boy whose face was contorted into worry, shaking back and forth heavily.

" … ne'ermind, guess I was outta line." Yet still no apology spilled past his lips as Linebeck refused to the creature in the eye again.

10. Heartbreaker

Relationships always end. That is how Linebeck had known them, anyway. Always given a sly, half-smile and a statement, wistful look in his eyes, of how nothing ever lasts and how if only love were eternal. It was in this way, he had been known as a heart breaker, causing doubt, fear, corruption gliding through everyone's forms as they awaited for the inevitable, cheating or otherwise. Oddly enough, the man never once performed these actions, only the fear of things creating a distance, a barrier. This is how he protected himself, even as the woman with dark, long curls turned away from him. Upturned nose and sharp words cutting through tender flesh as a knife.

Linebeck did not speak of his own heartbreak as she vehemently spoke of hers, and instead raised a sly grin. "Well what did I say? Nothin' lasts forever."

Especially when you want it to.

11. Language

So many times did a thin barrier stand between Link and the people whom he helped save. Each one of them having to use strong motions with their hands, attempting to convey feelings and ideas with such movements that only lead to a baffled hero desperately trying to return the same gestures with his own confusion. This would only lead to problems later, or so it seemed, when a sharp sigh through his nose and a growling "can't take this anymore" beneath his breath and forward did the lanky captain move.

Statements, queries, all were spoken smoothly between lips as green oculars focused solely upon the person before them who now seemed much more relaxed than with Link all but a few seconds ago.

12. Wait

A tapping of a foot, Linebeck glanced to his wrist idly. Nothing to keep time, that was sure, but the movement still spoke of his feelings to the situations. Nothing but the biting of impatience ringing his hands, spread power through his feet, each step taken, each narrowed eye, frustrated sigh, low-hissed curse showing more and more of the man's inability to sit still. So much so, the fairies upon his vessel were partially worried had Link not arrived a second later, the man would have left him behind.

Only a soft laugh was given in response to the accusation.

13. Tongue Tied

Twisting ones tongue, leaving on speechless, unable to give out coherent words or worries as he stares to the person in front of him with awe. Link could never understand, never think to understand, just how much this person had gone through. So similarly that he had been expected of, so too had Linebeck. It caused a tingling down his fingertips, making him want to latch upon that coat and apologize profusely and state how he now thought to understand. But, he never could.

The only person who would ever truly understand Linebeck, he was reminded of by the turned back of the coat, was Linebeck himself.

14. Crystal Clear

Tossing the rupoor aside, Linebeck ignored the hatred towards his luck. Eyes narrowing as he continued on his path, ignoring every glinting object as best he could, glittering jewels of red, orange, green … all of them so precious and beautiful, when he finally turned to see a handful of them in the pups hands, he could not help himself. Linebeck snatched away a rupee from between fingers and clutched it quietly to his chest. The translucent features of the crystal showing the mixed colors of his scarf, his coat, his shirt, and his vest in its warm colors.

15. Fraud

Swindler, cheat, fraud. Words were harsh, you know! Linebeck sighed in frustration as he looked away from the merchant before him. Link. The merchant always seemed to know how to jab at his pride further and further, keeping his tongue bit harshly so as to not snap at the man how he simple asked to be cheated out of his wares when he did not wish to own them in the first place! It was so frustrating and caused his stomach to churn. Finally, after Link bought his stupid bug, Linebeck dragged him out of there by the ear.

"Le's never do that again." Link rolled his eyes, but agreed. A week later, they were back at the very same shop.

16. Search

Bruised and broken, dragging along the floors as a pen marked, crossing out places upon a map, eyebrows furrowed, lips opened, panting awkwardly before leaning against a wall. Fairy companions swirling about him in hopes to create some sort of serenity in what was happening. Blue eyes turned, staring up at her and a memory was caught upon his lips, though he had no idea from whence or where it came. "…navi…"

17. Apart

Separation cut through like the harshest of knives. It was impossible to not feel anything by it, even if one told themselves again and again it was fine. There was no more need for anything that could be considered hurtful. No need to connect to another person whenever the outcome would always be the same. No need to feel sympathy towards the humans who bore like cut-throats down upon the people they once acted like they cared for. Linebeck's fingers clenching tightly together as he was quick to start up the engine to his ship, ignoring the yelling he could hear coming from somewhere behind him -supposedly, a ship- and went on his way.

He could never let himself be put in such a position ever again.

18. Personality

"Nobody likes a smart ass." Snapped words were always what he received, and like always he would roll his eyes and make a hand-puppet back at them. That was the core of who he was, he could not change it, nor did he ever want to. It was something that would, and always be, something he enjoyed behind, even if it got him trouble at times. Better to be hated than loved, ever all ... Hands grabbed at the sailors tail-coats however, causing smoke-green hues to glance down quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry or whatever, Sprinkles."

19. Orange

Peeling back the skin on the fruit, he tossed a piece to the parrot, popping a piece into his mouth. The flood of juice, flavors, always something that the sailor enjoyed. The brat on the other hand, seemed to have a very different opinion as his face contorted, nose crinkling, eyes narrowing. Linebeck shrugged his shoulders, "Do what'cha want, but yer gonna get scurvy if ya don't eat that." It didn't take more than a few seconds for the statement to sink in, Link quick to wolf down the orange slice afterwards, Linebeck rolling his eyes to the display.

20. Crawl

You only get so far when you're not willing to leave the ground. Or at least, that's what Linebeck believed, each step given so much precaution that it took to make him go that one step farther, that one sight more, eyes narrowed in suspicion, thoughts cast to the side, dragged forward and left again. Fingers clung to the back of his coat as the temple slowly unraveled itself to his slow pace, unable to keep up despite the small pace, his hands clinging to any jewel it could find while he ventured through. This was what he did for a living, after all.

21. Alternate Reality

Where the boy's hands touched his coat, not with innocence, but with an elder's grace. Aged eyes from years of experience, unsettling green, chapped lips opening, only to close about the others. Teenager and elder sliding places, yet being in the same spot as before. Hands of calloused sword-swipes accepting stubborn youth as hands grew accustomed to a wooden wheel, splinters beneath once-smooth skin, stomach churning in worry, thoughts on red cheeks and words open for interpretation. It was all between the two of them, Linebeck, a teenaged boy, youthful, rash, stubborn, and Link, wizened by years, beat down by time, yet still being able to offer that smile to a boy so much younger than him by both age and experiences.

It was in this way, callouses grew upon hands, taught in things that no one thought possible for the indignant youth. It was in this way, they would whisper: call it anything but love.

22. Downstairs

A hop, skip, and a jump later, Link was standing at the edge of a wooden stair-case, grinning so wide it cut his mouth in half. This would not stop, even as Linebeck threw a scolding remark for the child to behave, saying he'd end up getting his head cracked open if he kept doing things like that. Not listening was perhaps Link's downfall, but at the same time, it appeared that the elder was being somewhat entertained by the prancing about.

23. Pop

Pressure built. It took a while for it to build as well, angry words hissed between teeth, scrunched shoulders, irritated eyes, frustrated sighs, hands stuffed in pockets clenched as fists ... It wasn't a surprise for when it snapped, coming out as a long tangent, thrown left, right, forward, backwards, everywhere one could hear the angry yowling of a sailor on his last legs. At the end of his rant, there was a cool hand upon calloused fingers and Linebeck would only stare as the soft words of "thank you" passed lips and a green-clad lad turned and walked away, hands clutching together against his stomach.

"H-hey! Wait a minute kid!"

24. Cliché

There was a reason cliché's existed. It was to make fun of the world, laugh at what was the 'norm', an average or satire, something that everyone could see. It was hilarious, really, no really. Linebeck sucked deeply against a cigarette, pulling out nicotine and smoke into his lungs and enjoying it even more for that purpose. Eyes dove to the side silently, a hero and a princess ... It was a cliché, wasn't it? So he could laugh at the kid later for his crush on the pirate princess, laugh at him despite having been so scared of the princess's ghastly ghost at first, laugh at him for carrying on and pining after her, for going through so much just to 'get some' as he would say.

He released the smoke slowly from his lungs. "Bloody _hilarious_..."

25. Memory

Warm sands, toes worming their way through the grains, hands clasped with sister's, smile clear on lips, sunburns, sleeping outside, waking up late ... Link yearned for all these things, finding himself in the strange position of sitting, lonely, forever by himself against the deck of a ship, a shadow moving over his face, and the barest hint of a smile could have been seen, scolding words of an elder who could never be more than interested in self-gain, telling him how it was un-profitable to sleep on the deck of the ship where one might attain just what he had reminisced about seconds prior.

26. Bed

Sleep was scarce. The boat's constant chugging, rocking along the waves, unnatural creaking, waking the boy in his cot. It did not matter how often he tried, there was no way this would work! So, as-per his usual coupe, Link crept free of his cot, wandering quietly beyond the wooden doors, blue gaze careful to pick up any details which could give away such a position as he. This is what he learned from the sailor, and as he snuck beneath covers to cling against a white long-shirt, there was no regretting that he had.

27. Needle in a Haystack

The term was coined again and again, claiming fingers through golden-straw hair with a teasing laugh. Yet, had one known that the phrase could become literal in such an eased way, perhaps the boy would not have gotten so huffy to his elder before hand. Searching through folds of hay, digging for a needle that was in it's owners grasp already, a bobbing fairy landing smoothly on his shoulder as a glance, playful and entertained turned to her. "Builds character, aye?"

28. Shave

To see one's face grow older was weary work. It dragged on in the faintest edges of smiles, the growing of one's beard, the quivering of a persons hand ... It was not fair, not to him, never to him. He was strong, always strong, so why now did his hands quiver as a knife worked gently across the skin of his chin. Hands gently clasped his, stopping any motion and laying the razor down, older body cocooning the once young hero in it's warmth to comfort with a light hum to what was an answer of time.

One could not simply shave off the years. No, for even if one's physical appearance never altered, forever would their experiences alter them.

29. Whatever

It was in eased smiles and small conversation that one could get comfortable around them. That was how it always was, and when they were laughing, an indignant -yet completely false- whatever would slip lips and rolled eyes. Not now, however. As words spoke in bite, it made lips quiver and chest tighten, forcing back pain in a smile. He had been shouting, raving, there was no need for this to be true. Yet all the same, a painful whisper was uttered in tone of the usual response. "Thank-you."

A shout for him to wait as hands clutched tightly in white-splayed knuckles, cutting into his skin. No. This would not be so easily brushed off. He felt his heart falter, quiver, the beating raising and slowing in un-common patterns. Where did it end? Loyalty, hatred, love, life ... all of these things dancing so tenderly on a thimbles thread.

30. Guardian

How had he never seen it before?

He cursed the day he had not realized just how much a danger one man could be to another. Old hands were shaking, dragging up a weapon much too large for his small boots to fill. His throat clogged tightly, it took more effort to swallow than to stand, each step slow, awkward, stumbling forward, words raising, unbidden to lips. Sword swung, landing snuggling in the center of an eye, one eye out of dozens, it was a quick reminder as a tentacle snaked around, grasping at his stomach, tightening around it, and in a scream, he was no longer that spark of hope, even as the children were flung, the green robed boy landing so-closely to that sword …

A sad smile played across a face, much older than any would have thought, eyes watering at realization, feeling the pumping of energy seeping through his veins.

31. Infidelity

Fingers were smooth, so much smoother than a man as he should have. Lips were tender, passion-filled, eased, happy. This was what one would remember after a night with the drunkard. Even now, as sin filled his body from the sounds beyond the door, one could not break away and not hear the warmth in his tone, easing away all tension. Fingers gently brushing against her neck where once teeth and breath nestled, asking her but one question: What did she want?

32. Fiction

Things were never so fanciful as the tales; even Linebeck knew this! He was one of the rare people one could find telling these far-fetched tales for ears to perk in interest, tails wagging lightly and smiling at him. He leaned against the bar, swirling a drink as the next unaware sap decided to offer him another and off he'd begin again. The grander it got, the more entertaining it was the those around him, it seemed. Or at least, until they caught on. This fiction he spewed smoothly between lips easing minds and backs, and, even while some still committed his atrocities to mind, he calmed their quavering thoughts with bravo. He could not be a hero in the conventional sense, after all …

33. A New World

Navigation was always a very difficult thing. The words were quick to slip from lips for a map of the quick scouring sea and he was able to make use of it right-away. He knew his islands, knew them like the back of his hand (one must if they wish to live upon the oceans frothing waves,) but he was halted with things that he did not know, did not understand. A part of him rebelled, labeling the map as heresy, something of a prank or a jester, while the other, much more calm part, soothed over this new world was not that, but merely an over-estimated calculation of his own strengths.

Perhaps things would have turned out differently had he listened to the twisting of his stomach instead of smiling.

34. Accuracy

"Gotta aim proper, kid!" Linebeck's voice was boisterous as he watched in the back, an arrow being pulled taught, arm quivering from strain as eye-sight was failing, sun setting directly in the way of his practice. A blink, trying to breathe easy, the arrow snapping through the air, catching his arm with a sharp cry, body curling around his arm and a laugh snapped from the sailor's lips. How else could one explain such a callous man, yet there was good in him yet, standing carefully and walking closer and offering an ice pack. He'd get it some time, perhaps not soon, but sometime.

35. Fallen

A hand pressed, heavy to his heart, "I've fallen, and I can't get up!" The words were cried up to ears in hopes of catching sympathy from the young blonde who stared at him, not amused and unimpressed. Was he really losing his game that much? He clawed out a hand for dramatics, attempting to stand for that blasted tavern wench's sake! Still nothing? Nothing at all?! Damn— "…I'll help." The words were soft, so soft that Linebeck had to do a double take, the small boy moving forward, a step outside the borders of the protective field setting around him and again, Linebeck was calculating.

Eyes narrowed, mouth pressed … he had to keep his eye on this one.

36. Original

To be said one was 'unique' was a curious query. What made something original? Was it the way it moved, how it acted, how it looked, dressed, chose to expose itself to the worlds crowing? None of these things came to mind as Link stared curiously at his reflection, fingers gliding across the smooth surface in a daze. The green of his tunic, the worn leather of his belt, the strap across his back, the shield he had in tow –

All these things belonged to dead men.

37. Abstract

It was a thought – off the wall and all that shite people like – that drove Link to attempting it. Most did not realize how little time he had to be a child, and even now, as he began with the tips of a paintbrush against parchment he knew this would be fool hardy. Each stroke reminded him of how little he knew, each flinching remark coming from the sailor who strode behind him (taking a break from steering to watch him), it was all too much for the boy until he simply slammed the paint-brush down and stormed off, leaving the man there silently.

Picking up the paintbrush, Linebeck finished off the final piece, labeling it's corner with a carefully printed 'Link'.

38. Imperfection

To be perfect was a burden! At least, that was what the old sailor continuously said as he primped and preened his looks in the mirror; Link sitting off to the side, staring out the port-hole window quietly. He never did quite understand why people obsessed over that word. Perfect. It was a curse, a whisper of a thing that could never be, why would one aspire to it? He was more than content with what was already here, already there, it's what made him want to continue this mantle of 'hero', even after the disappearance of his sister had been resolved, after he had helped all those people, after he had seen the plight and taint of a land ruled by grass and mountains.

"Pass me a comb, would you, kiddo?" Link stood, moving forward and collecting the instrument of vanity for the sailor as calloused fingers ran through coarse, sea-damaged hair. "You know, pup," the words were slow, almost to the point that Link didn't expect them to continue, "you're pretty lucky. Lookin' like that … bein' who ya are." The sound to his tone was almost (to Link's surprise and withering thoughts,) bitter?

Link didn't question, only looked away once more, silently considering this new outcome. "I'm nothing to compare with perfection."

39. Let's Go

Movements of feet tapping on deck, a loud feminine voice booming in sensitive ears that careened backwards and away from the shouting in hopes of keeping at least part of their hearing. Droopy eyelids opened, staring up at the princess, her arms crossed over his chest as a foot tapped all-knowingly and the boy-hero had to scramble to his feet to get out of merely cleaning duty, let alone what else the Captain had planned for him.

40. Left Behind

It may have seemed like running away, but it was the opposite. This is what he told himself, whispered quietly to his own ears to drown out the pelting rain upon his coat, rowing as quickly as he could, oars not moving fast enough for him. He needed out, needed away. Yet, as he looked back, Linebeck could not help but swallow – once more – his whispered words from earlier, drowning out the thoughts of all those horrible sights he had just witnessed of young sisters … He had been left behind, to live in rot for what he'd done, while they … They at least could rest in pieces.

41. Potential

Flicking a rupee and catching it in his hands, the semi-transparent crystal glinted in its pallor. There was a pause, uncertainty touching skin as eyebrows raised, in thought. What exactly was what he achieved whenever he gave this single rupee to the lad before him? Would this be a wasteful endeavor, or perhaps … would this be something a bit more profitable than even his shrewd business sense could see. All right there, he'd have to give it a shot and see just how great this hero thing was.

42. Daemon

Everyone has their crutch ; that was what Linebeck knew from the very beginning. What was a bit more difficult in latching onto (or wrapping his head around) was what exactly that crutch was. People were obvious creatures – one's of habit – easy to understand, easy to predict when one let themselves open their eye to their sinful natures. Of course he knew his own, booze, women, and (on the rare occasion,) greed. That did not make it any easier as he watched a little hero robed in green bob up and down around the deck, playfully grinning with his fairy companions, trying to figure what thing – spirit or otherwise – could possibly be haunting this child.

43. Jump

"I'll catch you!" The shout, hand outstretched, fingers spreading wide, pupils dilating before shrinking sharply at the intake of light. No, no, no! Linebeck had a smile on his lips, head tipping backwards as the boat seemed to sink. What was he doing, what was he—a scream interrupted thoughts, interrupted the still of everything, the realization coming with horror as the clacking of metal could be heard. Soft laughter, eyes in the color of a monster, in the man's body, now heavily armored.

His heart jumped to his throat and his hand was shaking, staring up at the phantom that now possessed his friend.

44. Punish

A sharp swat was delivered over his head and Linebeck's crow of disapproval only elicited a rolling of eyes and a scolding from the fairy he was with. There wasn't anything wrong with what he did, after all. It was only a thing that didn't need to be flaunted so much, and if Linebeck continued to strut around like a peacock for it, he'd need to get punished for it. Better that than watching him take one step too far and end up on the other side of some law-man's sword. Then again, the little fairy supposed, the one who would normally be in such a position was now, smiling and sitting next to Linebeck, helping tend to the nasty bump.

45. Over

A sword had gone through it. It had scraped down his back, and the pain was so unbearable Linebeck felt his throat constrict in guttural agony, eyes clenching shut, water dripping down high cheekbones and staining wooden boards beneath his feet. Armor dissipated in smoke, golden glow leaving him curled up like tossed left over as Link pushed passed him. Raising his sword high for one … final time. And for the first time, in a long time, the sailor wished that it was all over at that moment rather than to lay there.

46. Deception

Whispers of demon's in an ear as a tongue, smooth as silk, followed their lies, weaving a spiders web about them until one movement jostled the nest and found their lives a mess of deceit and hatred. It was in this way that they stayed still, watching the broodmother cover their tracks with a thick blanket of webbing again and again.

Perhaps, it was not best to let Linebeck come on the adventure into the Ghost Ship with him.

47. Thunder

Roaring cracks glittered the sky in a cacophony of noises, yet the dancing lights did nothing but add to the joyous mood to the man who stood upon his deck. Hair flicked back with wind batting him away and his head cocked curiously outward towards the clouds that crawled in the sky towards them, so much faster then they seemed. It was in this way that he was so relaxed, fingers trying to get his attention being ignored for the simple bliss, the reminder of a time which was so much more simple. His lips pulled back as he looked down at the kid, a low whistle escaping in-time with a cracking of lightning, followed by it's loud friend and companion quite quickly. "Better get below deck, pup. Yer gonna get drenched if you don't move quick 'nough."

48. Welcome

Wizened hands wrapped sincerely around Linebeck's, pulling him closer as a sharp snap of teeth clanking together on themselves, pupils shrinking in their fear. Yet, the old woman before him, gentle as a dove, quietly dusted off his jacket before turning to the young boy besides him and scolding him for keeping her waiting so long … Linebeck however, just stared, silently calculating, unable to stop the baffled expression of such a person in front of him. Sweet and motherly, understanding but not taking any excuses for what had happened, only the truth.

49. Stop

His foot pressed forward against dirt, bounding him forward, ahead of all of them. The children's laughter behind him dispersing into screams as the boy no longer remained. Instead, a teenager crept from the shadows, moving faster and faster and faster. He had to get away, had to go through and get out of there! His stomach tightened into knots, unable to keep himself from anything more than the frightening witches whose talloned fingers reached for him, grabbed at his coat, ripping holes into it, scraping it back –

Jerking up, drenched in sweat, Linebeck stared at his shaking fingers before hiding them in brown hair. Whimpering ever-so-softly, he was left there, unable to do anything but bite back tears.

50. Writers Choice;; thought

Paranoia set in like a poison, each movement worried over with a biting lip or a well-placed curse under his breath. Why, why, why?! Each phrase quick to be mulled over, each word, each thought made drawn to the surface. How long had it been, a day, a week, a month? No, it hadn't, Linebeck was panicking, and his panicking made him skittish. This was just how he was, and if it wasn't for a clanking of boots upon the deck did he not turn and rush into that town, demanding to know what horrid things they'd done to Link-!

His hands clasped around the boys as he looked him over, concern covered in bushy eyebrows. Hands gently patting down the green hero, a soft laughter escaping lips as fingers curled around messy brown matt's of hair and gently pushed the sailor back. "I'm fine." He stated with a sincerety in his tone that made Linebeck's hackles ease, lowering before he gave an angry huff and glared daggers down the child.

"Nice try, kiddo, but until I get a check-up done, yer not leavin' this ship."

Another laugh bubbled to the surface, but no complain. Even as the other hid his shield-arm behind his back. Linebeck always did tend to over-think things, after all. If he could just hide even the littlest of problems, perhaps he'd calm down. Just a small bit.

* * *

><p><span>AN;; Ah, hello my lovelies! Or, as many who decide to read this. XD I've taken my time on this little story of mine here (no shame in admitting it!) and I think I've certainly out-done my prior attempt some years back. I also believe it's a lot sweeter, with more character pulled from Linebeck's side than not. Hope any who read this enjoyed!


End file.
